The last chapter was pretty short, and I am sorry about that.
You'd be surprised the amount of force a Russian teleporter can exert to slam a door against a wall just to wake you up. It's a lot, if you were wondering. And said teleporter shouting Russian in your ear, that helps, too.
["Get up. It is time to get up. Before I spear you with my swords."] Not how I want to start my morning, so I bolt upright and stagger to my feet in seconds.
["I see someone has retained their Russian."]
"Vati passed on his way with languages to me. I pick 'em up and hold to 'em. Now, if you don't mind, I need to shower and get dressed."
It's amazing what you can do without realizing it when you've only gotten about four hours of sleep. A slap to the back of my head brings me back to myself. I'm sitting at the breakfast bar, a plate of waffles in front of me. My hair is damp and I'm in jeans and a polo tee.
"That's weird," I murmur. "I didn't even know I owned a polo."
"Eat up. Big day today," Azazel mentions.
"Not really," I reply as I pick up a fork. "Yesterday was, apparently. Today is supposed to be a normal school day."
"Not according to this schedule that arrived in the mail." A sheet of paper is tossed my way and I barely catch it before it lands in syrup. Looking it over, I stab a piece of waffle and shove it into my mouth.
"Hmmmm. Let's see," I begin around my mouthful of food. "We have training, Situational Analysis, Public Speaking, Super Hero and Super Villain Theory, Supers History and…..ooooooh, what do we have here? A little Mad Science II? Skip right to the good stuff, I guess."
We sat in silence for a minute before Az clears his throat. "I may have accidently used your shoes for sword practice." He points neat the door where my black Vans sit. Shredded beyond belief.
"Accidently used for sword practice? How?"
He opens his mouth but I hold my hand up. "Actually, I'm pretty sure I don't want to know."
"I have a pair of shoes I would be willing to loan-"
"Willing? You shred my shoes and you would be willing to lend me a pair?"
"That is what I said, was it not?"
"Yeah, but- You know what, no. I'm not going to explain it to you. You should just get it. Besides, you wear old man shoes."
"Old man shoes? This insults me."
"Tell that to my shoes," I mumble and harshly stick the last few bites of waffles into my mouth. "I have another pair, so you don't have to offer up anything."
"Then we are good." Azazel claps his hands, completely ignoring my 'are you kidding me?' expression. "Will you be taking the bus or the bike today?"
"Heights aren't really my thing. I'm gonna see how the bus goes today and make a decision. If I can spend less time perched precariously in midair, I would feel better."
"Fair enough. You should hurry. The bus arrives in six minutes."
"Now you tell me," I shout and charge up the steps. Managing to brush my teeth, pull on a pair of socks and my old, beat up plaid chucks in only four minutes, I have just enough time for Raven to kiss my check and Azazel to point down the street for the stop. The jog to the bus stop is quick and I slow to a stop next to Layla and Will Stronghold.
"What's up, Layla?"
"Well, I still don't know your name," she replies with a sunny smile that I can't help but find annoying. Cheerful people are usually the bane of my existence.
"Oh, really?" Stepping closer, I offer her my hand, which she immediately takes. "My name is Levi Lehnsherr. Erfreut, Ihre Bekanntschaft zu machen."
"Excuse me?" Her confused face is almost cute.
"I said, pleased to make your acquaintance." I let go of her hand, glancing over at Will. He seems peeved but clearly confused as to about why. What an idiot.
An itch develops behind my right ear as the faint roar of an engine –unmistakably a bus- makes me shiver. The big hunk of junk is just rounding the far corner of the neighborhood, way too distant for me to be able to sense. As to how I can is a mystery unless I have been progressing more. The stupid piece of junk screeches to a halt in front of us and I have to put a steadying hand on a nearby tree while I try not to gag. Who knew a bus could make me feel this sick?
Will and Layla have already boarded by the time I have composed myself and turn around. Ready to get this (probably) vomit inducing ride over with, I hop up the steps. I don't even make it passed the third one before the bus driver has his arm out to stop me.
"What's your name?"
"It's none of your business." I move to keep going but he stops me again.
"You wouldn't happen to be Magneto's kid, would you?" He doesn't give me a chance to reply. "You're at the same bus stop as the great Will Stronghold and that worries me. Grudges can be passed down through generations –namely the one your dad has at Will's dad. We don't want something to happen to Will because you can't control your anger."
This fucker has got to be the creepiest bus driver ever.
"Look," I start, my voice deadly quiet, "I know you must feel a little pathetic, seeing as you're a bus driver and all, but that doesn't give you the right to judge me and decide what I might do because of what my father has done or what could happen between Stronghold and I based on what our parents have done to each other. I haven't even met the guy, and I honestly don't feel inclined to. Us sharing a bus stop has nothing to do with anything, least of all you. So, before you pass judgment on me, do a little self-evaluation, and then get out of my face. Excuse me." I shove passed him and make my way to the back of the bus where I can see a familiar dark head of hair.
Who does he think he is, with his annoying southern accent and neon orange hat, to say shit like that without even knowing me? This is why I hate people!
Warren is slouching down and ducking his head to avoid others seeing the wide smile on his face. The bus groans, chugging forward before I even make it to my seat.
Oh, so that's how it's going to be?
"That was good, man. I've hated that guy since last year. Such a dick," Warren laughs out. "My day has been made."
I shake my head at his enthusiasm for me snapping at some shlub. I'm not sure I really want to ride this bus anymore.
"I just lost my temper for a second. I might have been a little harsher than necessary but he insulted my father. That shit doesn't fly with me."
"Like I said, he's a dick. Anyway, let me see your schedule." He holds out a hand.
"Sure, just let me…." I trail off. Did I remember to grab it? Slapping my pockets, hoping for the feel of paper inside denim, I come up with nothing. Digging into them doesn't change the fact, despite my hopes. All I have with me is my stupid new phone. Fat lot of good that does for me. It begins to shout Russian curse words, so I pull it out.
How the hell is everybody getting my phone and programming shit?
"Hello?" I answer.
"I believe this schedule is important, but obviously you think otherwise, is that correct? That is the only reason I could come up with as to why you didn't take it with you, stupid boy!"
"I am very sorry. Do you think you could bring it to me?"
A heavy sigh, as if he is making a great sacrifice, is heard. "Of course, my dear nephew. You are lucky I cherish you." Because that isn't an odd thing to say to someone. "I will be there within a few seconds."
"Wait! You don't even know where we are," I say into the phone, but he has already hung up.
Abruptly, a cloud a reddish smoke spears in the aisle, amid screams of terror. A hand, a slightly darker red than the puff signaling his appearance, emerges from the already dissipating haze, holding my schedule. Looking up at Azazel, I grab the sheet and grin as he takes a seat across from us, ignoring the students cowering in fear.
"Thanks, Az. I really appreciate this," I say as I attempt to overlook the others freaking out and the bus pulling over. "How did you do that, by the way? I didn't tell you where we were?"
"I shall never reveal the secret," he replies, flicking his tail and nearly embedding it in the seat he sits on.
"Watch the tail. We don't want to mortally wound someone with that thing. You've traumatized these kids enough. "
["Watch who you're telling what to do. Be good. Don't make too much trouble. I will see you later for dinner."] He nods to Warren in acknowledgement and poofs out.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I murmur even though he can't hear me. I notice the bus is idling by the side of the road and everyone but Warren is staring at me. The bus driver stands and turns towards the back instead of looking into his mirror.
"Who was that?" he shouts, sounding slightly hysterical.
"My uncle," I respond evenly.
"More like the devil!"
"Hey, shut the hell up. He has no more control over his appearance than you do. Not all mutations –super powers- are invisible. Some have physical manifestations. So get this damn show on the road so I don't have to keep looking at you. Geez."
Bus Driver makes a face but sits back down and has us on our way.
"It never occurred to me that Azazel can freak people out when they first see him," Warren comments as he leans back into the seat.
"So he has red skin. And a prominent scar on his face. And a super sharp, pointy tail. And speaks Russian in a very intimidating, deep voice. He's still a person and he is judged way too often by others who can't see past the physical. Especially by the religious."
"I agree. But instead of dwelling on peoples' simple-mindedness, let me see your schedule." He snatches it away before I can even process the demand.
"Could you explain it to me? I don't think I quite understand."
"Well, Super's History is easy enough. Mad Science and training is, too. Theory is basically looking into different super heroes and villains and analyzing motives, who they worked with, why they worked with them , did they achieve their goals, why save or destroy, etcetera, etcetera."
"Wait, I thought Super Hero and Super Villain Theory were two different classes?"
"Nah." He turns the sheet over and examines the actual time schedule printed on the back.
"I didn't know there was a back."
"Yep. Anyway, Public Speaking is self-explanatory. Analysis is the class where they give you a shit load of situations that you could find yourself in when you're a hero and they want you to think about what you are going to do and how you're going to do it. There's really nothing to it, or so I've heard from my mom."
"Sounds significantly more boring now that I know what it is."
"My thought exactly."
We settle into a comfortable silence as the bus creaks along. I realize that I didn't feel nauseous anymore. Was it because I got my mind off of it or I learned to tolerate it? Now that I was thinking of it again, the itch comes back and a slightly sick-to-my-stomach feeling rears its ugly head. Tolerance is obviously learned the hard way.
Glancing passed Warren's head to the window to the left, I notice that we are almost to the bridge thing that we flew off yesterday. Now that I think about it, being near the bus yesterday –or even the motorcycle- didn't give me any reaction at all. What the hell?
Before I know it, we've flown straight off of the edge and the thrusters power up. This time, I really do throw up, but I manage to shove past Warren and push my head out of the already down window before heaving my guts out into the air. Will that land on someone? That would be gross.
When I'm done and seated, Warren leans over and whispers, "You're lucky the freshmen were too busy screaming their damn heads off or someone might have noticed you hurling out the window."
"Actually, I noticed," came a feminine voice from the seat in front of us. A white blonde head of hair appeared above the seat before the girl turned around and offered me a stick of gum that I quickly took and hastily shoved in my mouth. The mint combined with the taste of vomit, making me cringe until the flavor overpowered and I felt a little better.
She went on, "You don't look very good. In fact, you look as if you are about to pass out."
"I don't know why. Nothing metal has ever caused a negative reaction in me before. Usually it is a comfort."
She nods as if in sympathy but her face doesn't show any change in expression. She continues to stare at me even though our conversation is clearly over. Her blue eyes are really bright and kind of mesmerizing. The impulse to lean to the left, into Warren, is strong. Turning my head, I attempt to place my lips against Warren's but he pushes me away roughly, which jars me out of my unnoticed stupor. The blond is laughing quietly and I realize what happened.
"Hey! That's not cool!"
"Sorry, Sugar," she declares softly, but she doesn't look sorry at all. "My name is Emma Frost. We are going to be great friends, Levi. Aren't we?" The look in her eyes has my mind going pleasantly foggy. I tilt my body back over to Warren's again and he shoves me, clearing my mind.
"Stop it! Why do you keep doing that?" I demand. She smiles, a sugary sweet twitch of her lips, before replying.
"What girl doesn't love a little guy on guy action?"
Warren and I glance at each other in confusion as she turns back to face forward.
"What was she doing to you?"
"That, my dear Peace, was a telepath. Never trust anything unusual when she is around."
That is very rude. You should apologize.
"I'm sorry, my White Queen," I blurt out, then mutter, "Sonovabitch!"
Warren just laughs. The traitor.
Mad Science turns out to be my first class, alongside Warren and my new friend, Emma –apparently she was serious when she said we would be great friends. The three of us take up the middle table in the very back. I'm actively tuning out the teacher as Emma and I converse telepathically about Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. She sounds interested enough to think about going, especially when I casually mention that my step father is also a telepath.
We are rudely interrupted when Tumorhead (as I've dubbed him) slaps his hand down on the desk in front of me.
"You must be Mister Lehnsherr, our new resident metalkinetic." His voice is high and vaguely annoying. It has become difficult to look at him fully now that Emma has put images of someone poking his giant head with a sharp needle and it popping into my head. I attempt to stifle a chuckle.
I shall call him Tumorhead and shall be mine. And he shall be my Tumorhead, I send back and am please when she giggles quietly behind her hand.
Turning fully to the teacher but looking slightly to the left of him as to avoid a fit of laughter, I say, "Why does everybody seem to know who I am? Is there a sign on my back saying 'Magneto's kid' or something?"
Tumorhead makes a humming sound before responding. "I remember you father very well. You look just as he did when he attended Sky High. I pray you do not act as he did."
"So, you heard about what happened in power placement yesterday?"
"Quite. Now pay attention." I wave my hand for him to continue in his speech to the class and he walks back to the front of the room to carry on in his attempt to bore the class. I daresay he is succeeding.
"As I was saying, we shall be starting with something simple, something that you learned last year in Mad Science I. you will be building rays. Not lasers. I will allow you to pick the type you want to construct as long as you are your partners share the work. I am talking to you Mister Lehnsherr."
"I haven't even done anything yet!" I cry indignantly.
"Yes, but your powers give you a clear advantage over others."
Turning to my partners, I whisper, "I have an idea. We should totally build a ray of destruction. The science teacher at the mansion never let me."
"And there's probably a good reason for that," Warren states at the same time Emma says. "We are not doing that, you idiot. We're going to make a plasma ray. It's easy and we are bound to get an easy A, what with Levi being the techno wizard that he is."
"I don't know about techno wizard, but I can make this easier on us. There's nothing to a plasma ray. I could build it in my sleep. As a matter of fact, I believe I did when I was younger." I was pretty much babbling away at this point, too focused on examining the pieces in the box on our lab table to pay much attention to what words were coming out of my mouth. My brows furrow and my lips twist in concentration. I pull out the necessary parts required for a plasma ray and set them on the table in accordance to how they should go together. Waving my hand over them, the pieces shiver violently before shooting together with a few dozen soft clicks. Two bits stay on the table during the whole process. When everything else has finished assembling in midair, the last parts jump from the lab table and separate, one to each of my partners. They nudge theirs hands until they take them, and I offer each the ray so that they can attach them and 'contribute' to the project.
Once finished, Emma holds up the way and examines it closely, no doubt looking for flaws in my workmanship. "Not bad, Levi. Grudging respect." She hands it over to Warren, who weighs it in his hands before placing it in mine. Turning to the back wall, I level the ray and pretend to shoot it then blow smoke from the tip.
"What do we have here?" Tumorhead's voice startles me and my finger slides onto the trigger. The beam hits the ceiling, causing the walls and ceiling surrounding us to tremble and the lights to go out.
"Oh, shit," I mumble into the dark.
"Well put, Levi," Emma says.
"Stay calm, everyone. Nothing to worry about, unless you are a single celled organism." Tumorhead grabs a flashlight and leaves the room, I assume to check on the classroom behind us.
I place the ray on the table. "Well that was lame," I sigh. Everybody laughs as the lights flicker back to life and Tumorhead walks through the door.
"Will I get in trouble for that?"
I hate to leave it here but it has taken me longer than I would have liked to update. It got to the point where I was only getting a few minutes on the computer a day and that is no way productive in writing. So, I cut it off here.